Tales From Arda
by Somewhere In the Clouds
Summary: Thirteen strangers drown at a rock concert only to wash up on the shores of Arda. A story of language barriers, culture clash, and struggling to find one's place in a world much more foreign than our own. Fall-into-Middle-Earth fic.
1. In Which Everyone is Dazed and Confused

**A/N:** So who else loves (well-written) girl-falls-into-Middle-Earth fic? I adore fish-out-of-water stories. They might be one of my greatest weaknesses. Still, even with all my love for such stories, there are times when I feel like the same ground keeps getting tread. Though every fic may differ, they almost always feature a young, female, British/American-caucasian from suburbia. Don't get me wrong, I understand why this is. After all, I myself am also a young, female, Caucasian-American from suburbia as are most of the writers and readers of such fanfiction. But can't we change it up a little? How would a modern doctor fare in Arda? What about an African-American? A child? A lesbian? An autistic adult? What about someone deeply religious? How about all of them at once? Well…let's find out shall we?

**Rating:** _Mature_ (for language and sexual situations)

**Writing Music:** _Symphony No. 7 in A Major Op 92. Allegretto _- Beethoven

**Soundtrack Music:** _Paradise Circus_ - Massive Attack

"They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle Earth." - _George R. R. Martin_

**Tales from Arda**

**01. In Which Everyone is Dazed and Confused**

**Avery Pierce**

It _would_ be the _nine year-old_ who didn't freak out.

Avery was, of course, just as confused as the rest of them. Yet, unlike the dozen screaming adults around her, she didn't bother attempting to rationalize her situation. It was much better to accept reality than to fight it. At least that's what her dad always said. Speaking of her parents…where had they disappeared to? Surely they'd be horribly angry with her when they found her. They never did like it when she ran off. Not that she _had_ run off. She was fairly certain she had washed up on this shore like the rest of the strangers here.

A woman sobbed to her left. Avery eyed her wearily. It was never reassuring when the _grown-ups_ were the ones to cry.

"You're setting a bad example you know," the little girl proclaimed sternly, parroting what her mother always said to her father.

The woman choked in surprise, whipping her head around to stare wide-eyed at the tiny child behind her. She looked like that swamp creature from one of those old movies her mom always watched, with her dripping dark hair and sickly pale skin. The woman opened her mouth once, twice, three times, as if to speak but couldn't quite get the words out.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?"

Now it was Avery's turn to swivel her head around. An old black man stood awkwardly in the white sand. He was missing a shoe.

"One of your shoes is gone," Avery supplied helpfully instead of answering the man's question.

The man cracked a tired smile. "I noticed."

"My name is Avery."

"I'm sorry?"

Avery shrugged. "If we know each others names we won't be strangers anymore. And then I can talk to you."

"You'll make quite the lawyer one day."

"My mom says that _all_ the time," the girl grimaced. The man laughed this time.

"I'm Hector."

Avery could see the woman watching their exchange with a certain measure of bewilderment. She tried to give the lady her most welcoming smile, like one she'd give to a frightened animal.

"And what's you're name?" the woman gave her best deer-in-headlights impression.

"…I…I'm…umm…" she began, as if thinking was too much of a struggle for her. Finally she managed to choke out, "Miranda Joseph…or well, just…Miranda."

"Now that we're all introduced, I suppose we should gather everyone together. Salvage whatever things of ours we can find nearby…hopefully my shoe is somewhere…" he trailed off wistfully.

"Find our things?!" Miranda repeated incredulously. She looked about ready to begin her hysterics again. "What about how the hell we even got here?!"

Hector leveled his dark eyes at her. "Let's not think about that right now," he suddenly looked very tired. "I fear if we let ourselves go down that road it'll only drive us all crazy. Better to stick to the simple things, hmm?"

Miranda sputtered, but Avery was already getting to her feet to escape another frenzied tirade. She could already spot her garish yellow backpack half stuck in the sand. Avery picked it up gingerly, feeling the waterlogged material drip sea water onto her half-dry sneakers. Taking it further up the beach, she dumped the contents onto the dry sand only to discover her worst fears had been realized.

Her Nintendo DS was broken. She flicked the power switch back and forth futilely, unable to accept the loss of her favored electronic toy.

_Of course_, after the bizarre events of the day, it _would_ be a piece of machinery that would make her start bawling.

Hours later, after night had fallen and every one of their strange group was gathered around a small fire, Avery sat next to a fellow ginger-haired girl, still stubbornly sniffling over her waterlogged DS. Her companion, Victoria (though she'd insisted Avery call her 'Vicky'), attempted to console her, though seemingly more for her own benefit than Avery's. It was probably easier for her to focus on somebody else's troubles than her own.

"It's okay, you can always get a new one back home," Victoria had said automatically. Avery wasn't quite so sure of that. Her DS had been bequeathed to her last Christmas. Her parents had been adamant that she treat it with care for there wouldn't be another to replace it. Still, she didn't have the heart to contradict Victoria. The girl was only trying to be nice after all.

That didn't mean Avery wasn't going to sulk about it though.

The adults of the group (which was pretty much all of them. Avery was the only child amongst them and another girl, Jackie, couldn't have been older than sixteen) were mostly silent, gazing listlessly at the crashing waves or murmuring amongst themselves. One or twice a conversation picked up about their current whereabouts. No one ever tried questioning how they arrived there in the first place. It seemed everybody was much too tired to bother broaching _that_ subject.

She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but the next thing she knew Avery was awoken to the sound of arguing. Groggily, the girl sat up, wiping the sand stuck to the side of her face. Further up the beach, two men were in the middle of a shouting match.

"-the hell I will! Who died and made you king?!-"

"-listen here jackass, I've spent more time in the fucking wilderness than you-"

Avery's eyebrows shot into her hairline. Once she'd been caught repeating a few of those words by her mother. As punishment, she'd been forced to brush her teeth with soap.

"Fuck you man!" one of the two spat, fists clenched, dark eyes glistening with rage. "Who are you to say where we all go? I met you yesterday and now you're trying to take me to God-knows-where?!"

Suddenly Jackie was there, the black teenager from the night before, wrestling her way in between the two. She glared reproachfully at them.

"Back off, both of you! You're scaring the little girl!" everyone immediately stared at Avery who suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything!"

"Yeah, you can kill each other after we find our way home," exclaimed another man. He was young, with curly brown hair and ill-fitting clothes. More child than man really.

The two men eyed each other with obvious distaste before the foul-mouthed one shrugged Jackie off. "Fuck this man, do what you want." and then he turned on his heel and trudged across the beach. Away from the group. No one stopped him. No one protested. They just let him disappear in silence.

Well, everyone except Jackie.

"Where the fuck are you going?!" she yelled hoarsely as she marched after the man.

Avery turned to Miranda. "Where _is_ he going?"

The woman flinched, as if she'd forgotten there was a child sitting next to her. She gave Avery a sidelong glance, pursing her lips, thinking over her words carefully. "Don't worry about it sweetheart."

Avery frowned. She hated it when grown-ups said that.

**A/N:** Will the group break up? Will anyone figure out what the hell is going on? Will they all just get eaten by lions and tigers and bears (oh my!)? Tune in next time!

But in all seriousness, this chapter took me two days to write. I hate writing beginnings. Beginnings are the bane of my nonexistent writing career. If it all sounds weird (or just plain bad) then don't say I didn't give you a good (lame) excuse. Be sure to point out all my mistakes so I can cry in a corner with a big glass of vodka to nurse my stinging ego. But seriously, reviews, comments, and criticisms are always (always!) appreciated. I have big plans for this fic. I spent months fleshing out the characters, story arcs, and major plot points. Be in for lots and lots of drama (and elves! because who doesn't like elves?!). There are thirteen view-point characters so there's going to be a whole lot of story from a bunch of different perspectives. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this and are there for the next chapter. Cheers.


	2. Knowledge is Knowing That We Cannot Know

**A/N:** And so our resident Tolkien nerd takes the stage. Sebastian is modeled after my boyfriend (which is ironic considering he hates The Lord of the Rings, but his personality is too fun _not_ to use). This second chapter was a bitch _and a half_ to write. I _told_ you I hated writing beginnings. Argh. Can't wait until I get to move onto the fun stuff. As always, reviews, comments, and concerns are most welcome (please don't make me beg, I don't look nearly as good on my knees).

The title is a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson.

**Rating: **_Mature_ (for language and sexual situations)

**Writing Music:** _The Shape of Things to Come_ - Bear McCreary, _Atonement_ - Austin Wintory

**Soundtrack Music:** _Stuck In The Middle With You_ - Stealers Wheel

"Not only do I not know what's going on, I wouldn't know what to do about it if I did." - _George Carlin_

**Tales from Arda**

**02. Knowledge is Knowing That We Cannot Know**

**Sebastian Lancaster**

It took an _age_ to convince them all to get off that beach. Sebastian was completely on board with this plan. He was pretty sure he'd gotten sand in just about every place imaginable. And he did mean _every place_.

Some took more convincing than others. Mostly the older, middle-aged patrons of the group. A few were just _sure_ that rescue would come. Another kept going on and on about how all this was _clearly_ a dream and if _only_ she could just wake up…

But eventually the need for food and _fresh_ water was too great to ignore. They made the arduous climb uphill into the greenery, though kept in sight of the ocean. Jack, who Sebastian was certain had been a boy scout early in life, had said that they were more likely to run into people if they stuck close to the water. Sebastian, remembering reading somewhere that all civilization throughout history would was always near a water source, was inclined to agree.

His days fell into a pattern.

Every day he woke up tired and sore. Jack would wrangle he and a few others to journey down to the beach to catch breakfast (usually small fish and mussels) before they would gather together their sparse belongings and begin a long, _long_ day of walking. And walking. And walking some more. And when they were all exhausted and whining about how much they all hated walking, they would were told to walk a while longer. It was only when the sun began to set behind the distant mountains that they would finally (_finally_!) stop for the night and gratefully sink to the group to sleep. Sebastian wasn't used to this kind of exercise. Karate club every Tuesday and lazy evening runs didn't even begin to prepare him for the sheer exhaustion he experienced by the end of every day.

He'd never felt so out of shape in his life.

They say that all friendships are put to the test during a crisis. Sebastian was pretty sure this qualified.

Vicky had been Sebastian's friend since beginning college two years ago. She was a sweet girl. Gentle and patient to a fault. Ever since waking up on that cold beach, Vicky had gone out of her way to help everyone else. She dug up mussels for breakfast every morning, told stories to entertain the little girl Avery on their long treks over the countryside, and not once had Sebastian heard her complain. Ever. He worried for her.

It was just over a week before they finally found something.

Ruins.

They were clearly very old ruins too, nothing like the semi-modern, aged remnants of a forgotten farmhouse. The shape of the buildings reminded Sebastian more of a Venetian villa or the delicate architecture of a mosque. Even overwrought by ivy and weeds, the place was beautiful. The decision to take refuge here came as a shock to no one. Everyone was more than eager to have a roof over their heads again.

Sebastian and Vicky relished the chance to wander to alien hallways. The ceiling had long caved in, leaving them exposed to the clear night sky. Room after room they found mostly empty. Occasionally they found a piece of furniture, rotted to the point of unrecognizable. Whoever had lived here had clearly had the time to take most of their possessions, leaving little trace of who had lived there at all.

While investigating a courtyard (what had clearly once been a small garden had grown to spill into the hallways and rooms) Sebastian noticed the far wall was discolored. He studied it carefully, confused.

"It was painted." Vicky supplied at his side. "You can tell by the oil stains."

But he was no longer interested in the color of the wall, but what lay near the bottom and top of it. Tiny, delicate markings were carved into the marble.

Writing.

Some of the writing was worn away, from wind and rain, but those near the top were easier to make out. It wasn't in any language Sebastian recognized, though looked similar to Arabic or Sanskrit. It almost looked like…

No.

As if far removed from his own body, Sebastian began to roll his sleeve up. It stuck to the hair on his arm stubbornly, crusted with sea salt and dirt and sweat, but he managed to get it up high enough to bare the tattoo around his arm. Distantly, he saw that some of the symbols matched.

He felt like he'd been slapped.

"It's tengwar…"

Vicky frowned. "What?"

"There's no way…there's no possible way..."

"Bastian, are you okay?"

But Sebastian didn't hear her. He was too busy losing his mind.

**A/N:** Shhhhhhhh, there are _totally_ elvish ruins everywhere and _of course_ the group would just _happen_ to walk right into one. _Don't question my logic_ (or boatloads of research). And yes, short chapter. I imagine they'll get longer but I just had so much trouble with this one that I ended it as soon as I could. I'm so ready for the plot to start, aren't you? Did I mention how much I hate writing beginning?


End file.
